


anonym||mynona

by Renmiriffx



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, I'm Going to Hell, I'm feeling kinda naughty, I'm leaving the rating open for now, Ian is Mickey's fan, Ian's a blogger, Internet, M/M, Mickey's a mixture of Dorian Gray and The Riddler, Mickey's a son of a drug lord, Organized Crime, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, fluffy in a twisted psychotic kinda way, oh great now I'm thinking orgies....., rich and spoiled!Mickey, so there is gonna be smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-20 00:13:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5985838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renmiriffx/pseuds/Renmiriffx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey Milkovich is bored and annoyed. Being the youngest son of a drug lord isn't easy. Nobody notices him, they are aware of his existence, but that's where it ends. No matter how many vases he brakes, no one cares. So he plans on making them, all of them.<br/>What Mickey does is small anonymous crimes, lashing tires and setting things on fire, so someone will notice him. And first it's enough, but Mickey wants more and more. He wants to be something, or someone. So he makes a name for himself, a business card and starts leaving it behind, hoping that someone will notice.<br/>So when Mickey stumbles on a blog about him, he couldn't be more happier. Someone noticed. Really noticed.</p><p>Now Mickey wasn't bored anymore, now things were going to get fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	anonym||mynona

**Author's Note:**

> I'm just trying this out, it's waay different from what I usually write.

**_So what’s life like being the youngest son of a powerful drug lord?_ **

What Mickey Milkovich is a rich spoiled brat, _really_.  He’d always gotten what he wanted from toys to money. He had his own personal butler, taking care of his every need. He also had a bodyguard whenever he’d go out. And if he was to get attached to things or humans, (because things didn’t last and people went away) he’d say that Andrew, his butler, was the closest thing as a father he had. Since is biological father was always away, Mickey spend most of his childhood not even seeing the said man. His mother was a raging alcoholic, who never gave two shits about Mickey. She’d fuck off for months at a time, then come back and continue the same.

Sure he had an older brother, Iggy, who 7 years older than Mickey, so naturally his father had started dragging him along on his trips and showing him the ropes of the family business. But who the fuck knows, maybe Mickey has more siblings out there, who knows how many women his father has knocked up over the years on his trips? So Mickey was always left on his own, to the care of his butler. Not that he had any interest on the family business, so it suited him just fine. It was boring for his taste anyways.

What Mickey Milkovich has always been is _bored_. As a child he used to hide from Andrew and mash or break things inside the house, but when he noticed no one actually cared, so he stopped. Then he’d sneak out and cut all the bushes in the huge yard or re-shaped them into something inappropriate, but the following day they always had been replanted. Which annoyed the young Milkovich. After months of misbehaving and one devious plan after devious plan failing to get noticed, he grew even more bored. No one in the house cared. So the young master Milkovich as Andrew always called him, turned more annoyed as the days and years went by. All he ever wanted was to someone notice him, _really_ notice him.

What Mickey discovered when he was six years old was that people outside the house cared. He had been shopping, which was the most boring thing that anyone could think of, but Andrew had insisted on new shoes, and Mickey wanted to get out of the house, since he was homeschooled, he really didn’t get to go out that much, so he’d agreed. He, Andrew and his bodyguard/driver, whose name Mickey hadn’t never bothered to learn, set off.

At the shop Andrew was picking out some shoes for Mickey to try on, Mickey got bored of waiting and started browsing around the huge shop. The endless stands of shoes, piled up on stocks and some set out on display in the centre of the shop. He walked past a stand and accidently bumped into it, so a pair of shoes fell off the rack. Now he could have picked them up and placed them back, but why would he do a thing like that? So he shrugged and ignored it.

But later when he noticed the clerk picking up the pair of shoes, the clerk was old, he held his back in pain when grouching down, and it made the young Milkovich smile, because he had an idea. He started knocking over more shoes and hid behind the stocks and watched the old clerk placing them back, getting whinier by the second. It was the first time Mickey had done something that actually affected someone. He grinned behind the stock, but still it wasn’t enough, he wanted the clerk to know that it was he, who messed with him.

So he walked beside the clerk and locked eyes with him. The male clerk just smiled warmly to the child in front of him.

“Are you lost little boy?” The man said with a soft loving tone.

“No,” Mickey simply answered, still looking into the man’s fading hazel eyes.

“Are you looking for something?” The man continued.

“No,” Mickey said, the devilish grin growing wider on his face as he picked up a pair of women’s shoes from the shelf and dropped them onto the floor.

“What are you doing?” The clerk asked confused.

“I’m bored,” Mickey stated and leaned against the shelf in order to knock it down, but he was too small, too lightweight.

Mickey huffed out angrily and tried even harder to make the shelf fall down. He placed his tiny child hands on it and pushed and pushed. But it didn’t even move an inch. Mickey grew frustrated and kicked the shelf, muttering to himself. Why he had to be so small? He fucking hated it.

“Andrew!” Mickey yelled.

“Yes sir?” His butler appeared behind the stocks.

“Push over this shelf!” He ordered his butler, who simply nodded towards his young master.

“Hey, you can’t do that!” The clerk tried to protest when Andrew pushed the shelf over.

It fell down with an awful sound, making the other customers in the store look at them. Some of them looked shocked, some of them whispered to each other and looked at Mickey with disapproval glances. And Mickey just chuckled, he felt good. He had made that happen, if not by himself, but it had happened because he wanted to.

Andrew shoved some bills to the clerks hand and bowed.

“My apologies for the inconvenience we have caused, hope that money covers it,” The butler said with a monotone voice.

Then he turned to Mickey, showing him a pair of shoes.

“These acquire your taste?” He asked.

Mickey looked at the black, shining leather shoes.

“Fine, whatever, I’ll wait in the car,” Mickey replied and left the store, followed by his guard when exited the shop.

After that Mickey started pulling little pranks like that whenever he went out. First it was fun and thrilling, but when he made Andrew do things for him, eventually the shop owners started to expect it and to be even glad, because it always meant money for them. Mickey asked Andrew not to pay them afterwards, but still the butler always paid. He had said something along the lines of maintaining a low profile, because Mickey’s father did need any more trouble from the neighborhood or the cops. Mickey didn’t understand why, and it annoyed him even more and it wasn’t fun anymore, when people started enjoying his little stunts.

So once again Mickey was bored. He had to think something else to make people notice him, and misbehaving was the fastest way to get someone notice you. So he started stealing from the shops they went. And he wanted to get caught, what’s the point if you don’t? No one is going to notice you if you don’t.

And every time he got caught, Andrew would come swooshing in and repay the security guards or other employees. And if Andrew wasn’t there to “save” the day, the employees always asked his name, and when he had said Mickey Milkovich, the guard had let him go with nothing, not a word. And Mickey did the math in his head his name plus knowing what and who his father was, obviously made them scared. No one was stupid enough to mess with a Milkovich, if you didn’t want to wake up houseless or worse, limbless.

He could always try to drip down grannies and steal their bags, but he was too small for that, and besides them old hags would just smile at him and tell him what a cute little boy he was, even if he’d steal their bags. So what he needed to do was grow up and learn to ditch Andrew and his bodyguard. So he waited, plotted and waited… Since his name held too much power he needed to be someone anonymous and care-taker free.

By his 13th birthday he had learned to sneak out at nights without anyone noticing and more importantly without alarming anyone, so no one followed him. Firstly he did small things, like slash the neighbor’s car’s tires or mashing their street lamps. Later he’d loiter around the rich neighborhood and listened the people chatting about the incidents and grinning victorious if a patrol car showed up in the morning to see what was going on. He’d never been so pleased with himself. But Mickey grew more and more power hungry. He wanted more, to people really noticing him.

So he expanded his territory to the nearby town, where he mashed a coffee shops windows. He didn’t know what he had expected, but nothing really happened afterwards. And Mickey became more impatient. So next time he lid a store on fire, he checked that no one was in, of course, he wasn’t into killing or actually hurting people. What he was, is, the necessary evil, so to speak. The more chaos he created, the happier he was. He was liberating them from all the bullshit. Now he wasn’t bored anymore.

The morning after the pyromania, he read it about in the newspaper. He grinned so hard, that the corners of his mouth hurt. The town vandal—the paper said. Mickey didn’t like the name, he cringed at it. It was boring, and he wasn’t a vandal. A name, he needed a name. A Liberator? No. Chaos_master? Fuck no. A mark or a symbol? No, too supervillainy. Since he was nobody and nameless, without his family name Mickey was nothing. So, anonymous, anonym||mynona. That was the right amount of cheesy. Mickey made little plain white business cards with the anonym||mynona printed in them, and as a joke he threw in a print of lips, his lips to be exact, with velvet red lipstick on them. Why? Because, same as the name, twice, implicating two people and set of lips implicating a female. That would sent cops on a wild goose chase.  

Now whenever he did his little crimes, he’d leave a card behind, just to let everyone know it was the same person doing them. Slowly Mickey decided to participate in his father’s business trips, making him proud that his son finally wanted to learn the business, but in reality Mickey didn’t give a shit about dealing, selling or buying drugs, he didn’t give two shits about any of it. Because finally he had something of his own, and people noticed him, well not him, after all they didn’t know it was him, but fuck. It was all his. And because the town and the nearby areas were getting too small for him, he needed something bigger. So where ever they went Mickey would continue doing his misdemeanors. He did it for two years. But still it didn’t have the impact Mickey wanted, he wanted to be bigger, more known. Fuck, he wanted his name on every newspaper, on every news channel. And for that he needed to do something really big. Then they’d notice.

It was nearby his 18th birthday when he googled his “name”, out of curiosity. He’d done it a couple of times in the past, but nothing ever really popped up, just some random news articles, about something he’d done, it did make him smile though. Being a smug son of a drug lord, he’d collected every article in a scrapbook.

But this time the all powerful internet had something new for him. A website with his name on it. Mickey clicked the site which opened up in a new tab. It was a site with his initials, and as far as Mickey could tell it was a blog, all about him. His eyes roamed the site, clicking and reading the posts. There was a collection of news articles and posts about how awesome he was. How cool the things he did were. A normal person would be creeped out, but Mickey ain’t a normal person. This is exactly what he wanted. Someone who noticed him _, really fucking_ noticed him.

He got himself a fan.

The newest post was from yesterday titled, Think about if?

Mickey read the praising post, the writing thinking about who she was or what they were like and so on. The writer had ended the post with question; Think about if anonym||mynona was to set the Sitting Lincoln on fire?

Mickey smiled and locked on to the site. There was a comment field at the end of the post.

_anonym||mynona: What if they were to break it?_

He left the comment on the site, and now he waited as his smile grew wilder and wilder.

Now Mickey wasn’t bored, he was far from it. This was going to be so much _fun_.

**Author's Note:**

> If this interests you, let me know, so I'll continue this (hopefully)  
> ????  
> I'm beat.  
> Whatta fuck I'm doing here again? Come to my tumblr, we'll have a blast! I can be funny, it rhymes with my name Fanny.  
> I think I should go to bed, yeah, I'm gonna do that.


End file.
